The Image I Am
by alien09
Summary: You cannot claim the First Amendment Ange, no matter how constitutional you think our friendship is. A series of one-shots exploring the way Booth and Brennan see each other.
1. Filler for 'Wannabe In The Weeds'

Brennan frowned, recalling Booth ogling the woman at the gym

Brennan frowned, recalling Booth ogling the woman at the gym. While she could certainly acknowledge the fact that Booth was a red-blooded American male that would certainly find the sight of a well proportioned and suitably endowed woman stimulating, she couldn't understand _why_,exactly, that that thought bothered her so much.

_He also didn't correct Pam when she called me a scarecrow_.

Her brown furrowing some more, Brennan glanced down at herself. She had never had any complaints from any of the men she had dated. They had all seemed to find her sexually appealing and had responded well to her physique.

'Sweetie, why are you staring at your chest?' Angela asked incredulously. Snapping her head back up, Brennan cleared her throat awkwardly.

'I thought I…dropped something,' Brennan responded hastily. 'Did you need anything?'

Angela's eyes narrowed as she crossed the room, placing a picture of a Civil War soldier on her desk.

'Okay, you have this _look_ on your face. What is it?'

'Nothing Angela,' Brennan said, sighing. 'It's nothing.'

Angela made a sound that clearly showed she didn't believe a word. 'What did Booth do?'

Brennan gaped at her. Sometimes, her best friend's ability to read minds was eerily accurate. Deciding that it was best to seek some reassurance, Brennan spoke.

'Do you find me sexually appealing?'

'Woah!' Booth's voice interrupted. Brennan felt her cheeks begin to darken, much to her disdain. Wasn't he supposed to be at the Hoover Building all day? Wasn't that what he had told her? Glancing towards her friend, Brennan saw Angela raise an eyebrow.

'Of course I do Sweetie,' Angela said definitively.

'Really?' Brennan and Booth asked at the same time. Seeing Booth cast a look, Brennan quickly averted her eyes.

'That would be very…' Booth began, trailing off with a dopey grin.

'Not happening G-Man,' Angela told him, rolling her eyes. 'Now explain.'

Feeling Booth's stare on her, Brennan felt her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. Finally adopting what she hoped was an expressionless mask, she directed her question at Booth.

'Why did you say I was a scarecrow?'

'Booth said _what_?' Angela asked.

'I never said that!' Booth exclaimed, eyes widening.

'When you were interviewing Pam,' Brennan pressed. 'She said I was a scarecrow and you failed to correct her.'

'Bones, we were doing an interview for a murder investigation,' Booth said, fiddling with his tie. 'You know that-'

'Well, it wasn't very nice that you agreed with her,' Brennan replied, folding her arms.

'I didn't _agree _with her,' Booth insisted, turning to Angela who merely smirked at him.

'Silence indicates affirmation,' Brennan retorted. 'And then at the gym you clearly eyeballed that woman, which I found not only rude but very offensive.'

Ignoring the tutting sound Angela was making, Booth stared speechless at his partner.

'Are you being serious?' Seeing the hurt look that Brennan flashed him, and the disapproving glare that Angela was giving him, Booth quickly backtracked. 'Angela, could you give us a minute?'

Cutting her gaze back and forth between them, Angela complied.

'There was no reason to send her out,' Brenna said dully, getting to her feet. 'This conversation is childish. Forget I said anything.'

'Hey.' Booth grasped her wrist as she walked by. 'What's this really about?'

'Nothing,' Brennan responded harshly. Finding Booth staring at her intensely, she expelled a breath.

'I don't know why I'm upset. It was an insignificant comment that I shouldn't have dwelled upon.'

'Look Bones,' Booth started, his eyes focusing on her left ear. 'I don't think you're a scarecrow alright? Any man would be stupid to even _think _that you resembled a scarecrow. And I apologize for ogling that woman.'

'You don't have to…apologize,' Brennan mumbled, wondering why she had pursued this line of conversation. 'I'm just…'

'Just what Bones?' Booth chided gently, watching as Brennan observed his hold on her wrist. He wondered why he felt glad that she hadn't pulled away yet.

'The only reason men seem to be attracted to me is because of my looks. Once they discover that I work for the Jeffersonian, or that I'm a best-selling author, they seem threatened. Or if they aren't, they leave because I'm emotionally distant.'

Booth studied her face, his heart clenching when he realized that she believed every word she said.

'You're more than just Smurfette Bones,' Booth started, watching as she recalled the day he had presented her with Brainy Smurf. 'Sure, I won't deny that you're nice to look at.'

_You're beautiful_, Booth told himself as he saw her face grow pink.

But any schmuck that can't see what a…wonderful person you are, both on the outside and on the inside, he doesn't deserve you. And you feel with both your head and your heart Bones,' Booth told her, his hold on her tightening. 'It's their loss and my gain.'

Booth saw her lift her head and found himself looking into a pair of deep, cerulean eyes. He saw something he couldn't quite identify linger around them, and a warmth spread through him.

'I can also sing,' Brennan murmured.

'At least, that's what you say,' Booth joked, letting his hand fall. Another moment passed.

'Thank you Booth.'

Booth watched as she walked out of the room, his eyes trailing down her body, and his cheek still hot from where she had pressed her lips.

_You're the only one I want to look at._


	2. Lipstick Feminism

**a/n: credit to Teresa Riordan and her book, "Inventing Beauty", the West Wing, and my International Relations theory course.**

Brennan saw Booth's eyes widen as she emptied out her cosmetics case. Her partner snatched a tube of lipstick off her desk, eyes narrowing as he read the label.

'Sheer bliss, huh Bones? Didn't you say you objectify yourself when you put this on?" Booth said, waving the lipstick around.

'While I admit that there is a certain amount of objectification involved," Brennan started, trying to snatch the tube out of Booth's hand, 'cosmetics are not an oppressive instrument of masculine power.'

'What?'

'When successful, the artifice of beauty is a great leveler.'

Sensing the confusion from the FBI agent, Brennan tried to explain.

'When a female wants to make herself more alluring to a man, she enhances her appearance using foundation, concealer, blush, mascara-'

'Women actually use _all _that?' Booth asked, mouth open.

'As I was saying.' Brennan shot Booth a stern look. 'Cosmetics have allowed women to enhance their appearance. In turn, this enables them to captivate the eye of a roving male. This in turn, allows them to deceive the male into thinking that he is the one in charge. The man will think that the woman devoted her time and energy to make herself more attractive, while in actual fact the _woman _has used her aesthetic qualities to mislead the man into _thinking _that he is the one with the upper hand.'

'So what you're saying is that you put on lipstick everyday because you want me to think you're in charge?'

'That is a gross simplification of what I just said Booth,' Brennan corrected him. 'In Western society, especially, appearance has become a very important factor in our formation of social and romantic relationships. Women have merely adapted to that assumption and used it in their favour.'

'Aww come on Bones! Not _every _woman thinks that way. I'm sure they put this stuff on because they want to feel pretty.'

'They _want _to feel pretty Booth?' Brennan offered him a small smirk. 'Are you trying to say that before we put on our make-up, we feel inadequate somehow?'

Booth spluttered.

'Let me explain something to you Booth. I may be a renown forensic anthropologist and a best-selling author-'

'And modest too,' Booth mumbled to himself.

'But I am still, fundamentally, a _woman_. The state itself, and as a consequence society, is constructed by men. Essentially, we are indoctrinated to believe that masculinity is the default stance that we must defer to. Women are seen as the weaker creatures, driven by things such as emotions, and are accorded the status of those that must be protected.'

Booth blinked.

'War, aggression – they have been so prevalent in our time because men see war as a symbol of honour, something which enables them to valorize their efforts and prove to the other men their power and prestige.'

'You're reducing the international political system to a situation where men just whip 'em out, and see whose is the longest?' Booth asked incredulously.

'Whip what out?' Brennan questioned, her mind drawing a blank.

'Never mind,' Booth said hastily. He sure as hell wasn't going down that road with _her_. 'Just keep talking.'

'The world is _male _Booth. Women have simply realized that while they may have more rights then their mothers and grandmothers did, they are still constrained. We have simply recognized those boundaries and worked to carve out our own realms of power.'

'So you don't mind guys ogling you?' _Because I do._

'I don't think whatever sexuality I have diminishes my power. I think it augments it,' Brennan replied, shrugging her shoulders delicately. 'Though I draw the line at becoming vicariously promiscuous.'

'So you're _happy _that men regard you as an attractive woman and nothing else?' Booth inquired.

'No,' Brennan admitted. 'I don't particularly like being subjected to degrading remarks. While I don't particularly agree wholeheartedly with lipstick feminism, I find parts of the theory logical.'

'What degrading remarks?' Booth posed.

'When you're identifying remains in a mass grave, the people who don't want you to identify them tend to resort to crass name calling. While I have learnt to ignore such remarks, it doesn't make them any less…' Brennan trailed off, uncapping the lipstick.

'You know Bones, you don't need any of that to impress me,' Booth said, jerking his head towards her tube of "Sheer Bliss". 'Not all men see a woman and think of sex on two legs. I see more than that when I look at you.'

Brennan looked up, fixing her blue eyes on him.

Booth cleared his throat, matching her stare. 'Yeah, I can't deny the fact that you're stunning-'

_Booth thinks that I'm…_

'But what you have on the inside-' Booth stepped closer towards her.

'What you have on the inside is _more _than good lipstick. It's stunning, and far eclipses everything I've ever known.' He finished, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, and smooth.

She tilted her head up towards him, and his eyes focused on her lips. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

'Bones?'

Her teeth were grasping his bottom lip, pulling and sucking. Their lips found a rhythm, melding together with ease. He groaned, feeling her tongue probe and then enter into his mouth. It was a fight for dominance, much like their relationship, but there was something deeper underneath, something both exciting and terrifying. Running out of air, he gently extricated himself.

'That was…' He didn't know what to say, what to think.

'Sheer bliss?'

Smiling, Booth couldn't agree more.


	3. Deliberations

**a/n: spoilers for Verdict In The Story. Takes place before Booth has to testify.**

'Angela. _Please_.'

Booth halted his steps, hearing Brennan's pained plea.

The FBI agent had replayed the forensic artist's words in his head over and over. It was like a continous loop, spinning and twisting around until he could no longer ignore it. He had found himself approaching Angela's cell with the intention of cajoling her to testify, though now...

'Sweetie. Didn't you hear what I said?'

'You cannot claim the First Amendment Ange, no matter how constitutional you think our friendship is.'

'You know this is the right thing. _I _know it's the right thing.'

Was he doing the right thing?

'I _want _you to testify.' The pleading edge again made itself known in Brennan's voice.

'Bren, this is one of those times where everyone else is just confused.'

'You said that before but-'

'I'm _not _helping the District of Columbia put your father in the electric chair.'

'They use the lethal injection here.' Booth almost snorted at Brennan's answer.

'Well Sweetie, I believe the principle still applies.'

'_Booth _is doing it.' He resisted the urge to wince.

A sigh before Angela's voice filtered through again. 'He knows how much you believe in the justice system. He's doing it because he _thinks _that you want him to.'

'He's right.'

'No, he's not.' Angela's tone was warning and something curled in Booth's stomach. 'This entire thing has made this big, gigantic moat between you and us. And don't even try to deny that it's not killing you. I can see it in your face.'

Booth could see it too. The pain, doubt and sometimes what he thought was betrayal would flicker past her face so fast he thought he had imagined it.

'While I admit that the circumstances are less than ideal-'

'You and I both know Booth is in the same kind of denial you're in. Once this is over, how do you think things are going to be like?'

'My father will-'

'Oh Tempe-' a hint of sadness '-do you really think your dad's going to come out of this?'

'Yes.' Booth caught Brennan's hesitance. 'You don't think he's going to?'

'Your dad gut and then flash fried a big fish in the FBI. They need a fall guy. And you're dad's it.'

God, what was he doing? This was her _father_. Sure, Max hadn't been the most ideal parental figure but Booth could clearly see how much the man loved his children. And how much Bones loved him as well.

'I just got him back Angela.'

'I know.'

'I can't just give up. I thought that once he turned himself in, that things would just…_click_.'

A sigh. 'Remember when we first met?'

Booth perked up slightly. He had always wondered how two complete polar opposites had maintained such a strong and lasting friendship. How Angela had managed to insinuate herself into Brennan's life so completely that the only picture in his partner's apartment was a photo of herself and the artist.

Brennan laughed. 'How could I forget? You walked right up to me and told me we were going to be great friends.'

A pause followed the laughter.

'You were so alone; I thought you needed a friend. You were always just by yourself and that made me sad. Like I told you, my persistence paid off.'

'What have I done to deserve someone like you?' Brennan's voice sounded thick.

'Right back at you Sweetie.' Metal clinked together and a barely audile sniffle echoed back towards him.

'You're wrong, you know. I'm not going to dislike Booth because he's testifying against Max. He brought my father back to me when I thought I couldn't have him anymore. It's because of him that I got my family back.'

Booth swallowed.

Angela sounded tired. 'More than anyone else, did you really think I'm going to doubt how much that man worships you?'

Doing anything for her didn't mean he _worshipped _her.

'Angela. _Please_.' This time the words were laced with exasperation.

'All I'm saying is that this whole trial is going to be difficult for the both of you. And I want you to promise me that, no matter how utterly _wrong _I think that Booth or Hodgie or anyone else is, that you promise not to bottle up and go all Ice Queen on the both of us.'

'Who-'

'Me and Booth. We love you Sweetie. And yeah, I'm indulging in some wicked hippie protest fantasies getting locked up, but remember that Booth wants to do what's best for _you_. He's already going to feel guilty enough. Just…try and be there for him, okay? For me?'

'It's irrational for him to feel that way. I understand he's just doing his job.'

'Forgive us mere mortals for not being able to compartmentalize the way you can.' The words were harsh but Angela's tone was teasing.

'This is hard for me too.' Brennan's admission caused another wave of guilt to crash over him momentarily. 'But I assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that Booth comes through this trial unscathed.'

'I _could _suggest a few stress relievers-'

'I think I'll manage Ange.' Booth groaned softly, hearing the innuendo evident in Angela's suggestion. Though he wouldn't mind if Brennan _did _plant one on him. Although he would have to ensure he wasn't dreaming when it happened…

'I have to go.' Brennan's voice brought Booth back to his senses. 'I don't like-'

'It's _fine_ Bren. Seriously. Everyone's been really nice and I'm pretty sure one of the guards has a crush on me.'

Booth was pretty sure she was right.

'You're in jail because of me.'

'I'm in jail because I _want _to be.'

'That's completely ridiculous.'

'I'm an artist. I'm prone to flights of whimsy.'

'Hodgins doesn't like this.'

'Well, the both of you are just going to have to get over it.'

An exhalation that was both deep and drawn. 'I love you Ange. But if you change your mind-'

'Love you to bits and pieces too Sweetie.' Angela's tone was final.

Booth heard Brennan knock on the bars and pivoted on his heel.

He needed to think.


End file.
